I’ve been practicing (again) for the life of a dog owner. Panda the Finnish Lapphund is staying in my care for the time being1. I’ve been borrowing pups before, but I think this is the first time in the middle of the winter, which makes all the more poignant the part about getting up in the morning, piling clothes on top of clothes and trudging through snow and hail and slush while the dog is completely oblivious to any possible discomfort…
There’s a fair-sized dog park almost right next to where I live, so for the times I’m not feeling up to the task of enjoying the pretty scenery at the riverside, I usually head that way. Most evenings, in fact — Panda gets far more exercise trying to hump everything in sight than on a leisurely walk with me — because I’ve mistakenly been thinking that if he can stay out late and spend lots of energy, I get to sleep a bit longer in the morning.
Apparently, energy is cumulative.
I don’t mind, really, after I’ve woken up, but don’t tell anyone I said this. Morning walks are actually kind of nice2, and having a dog gives a semblance of routine in my life. In a semi-rural area like this, there are lots of dogs and dog owners around.
Dog owners. Yeah.
Don’t get me wrong: most dog owners are nice people with whom it’s easy to get along and there’s almost always something to chat about. And then there are those few that just make my sap boil.
(Oh, fuck drawing.)
…And then there are owners, who bring a dog to the dog park which isn’t actually theirs *cough*3…
1 Jinta, the sibling, is in heat, and since puppies are not in the plans, Panda had to be temporarily evicted.
2 Provided a canine friend comes with the equation.
3 In my defense, I both know the dog and
can control him he’s well-trained.